


Gold in June

by Emerla



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: Alcohol, Banter, F/F, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, all those fun things, and back again, can that be a thing, is furniture shop the vintage equivalent of the coffee shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 08:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7214842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emerla/pseuds/Emerla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carol and Abby, an ending and a beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gold in June

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



There was a storeroom at the back of their shop. It wasn’t nearly big enough for keeping actual furniture, but the tools of the trade didn’t fill it up either. It collected odds and ends, a treasure trove of the ordinary: hairpins and a brush, several books, a small stack of records, the bottle of wine they dipped into on special occasions. The shop hadn’t lasted long enough for them to drink it all; Carol found it again as she boxed the rest of her things away.

“Remember this?” she said, poking her head out to where Abby was sorting the paperwork.

“That old thing,” Abby said. “Take it if you like.”

“I thought we could finish it off now.”

Abby laughed. “Sure, let’s toast our tremendously successful business. Remind me how many months we lasted?”

“We had fun,” Carol said.

“And yet here we are, drinking before midday,” Abby said drily. “Cheers.”

“Hey,” Carol said, pulling up a chair. “It was good. All of it.”

“Was,” Abby said pointedly. “That’s what the wine is for, isn’t it? Bookending the beginning and the end. For us as well as the shop. You like to be tidy.”

“Abby, it’s… ”

“Just let me know where I stand.”

“I can’t imagine my life without you in it somehow,” Carol said, appreciating Abby’s blunt honesty; it made it easier for her to speak the same way. “That’s the most important thing. Yes, this is an ending of a sorts, but I don’t want it to be final.”

“I’m glad,” Abby said softly.

Carol leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “In the spirit of the occasion.”

“Right. Bookends.”

They’d just made their first sale; Carol had closed the door on the buyer and turned to find Abby holding the bottle triumphantly aloft. She laughed.

“Have you been keeping that here just for this?”

“Or for when I couldn’t face one more hour of polishing,” Abby said, pouring them both a generous drink. Catching Carol’s reproachful glance, she added “I’m kidding! I love it. Even if my hands don’t.”

“They’ll get used to it,” Carol said, clinking their glasses together.

“God, I hope so,” Abby said. She crossed to the record player in the corner and turned up the volume. The late afternoon light streamed in, thick as honey; it would fade in an hour, but for the moment it felt eternal.

“Oh, we’ll have a gap now,” Carol said, setting her glass down. She began to pace the room, measuring distances and mapping out shapes in her mind, a look of intense concentration on her face.

“Explain to me why the big desk won’t do?” Abby interjected. “It’s nearly done. We can finish it up in a day or so and pop it in the empty space. At least until we find something better.”

“No, the balance wouldn’t be quite right; it needs …” Carol crossed to the opposite corner, frowning at her imagination’s refusal to comply.

“We could just spread everything else out and have more space,” Abby suggested. “Make it less cluttered.” She was watching her friend’s sudden restlessness with a bemused expression; it hadn’t escaped her that there was a charming domesticity to the scene, as if they’d just ushered out a friend rather than a customer and were unwinding free of scrutiny. It was not an unfamiliar state, staying late after one another’s social occasions, but unlike their houses, this place belonged to both of them.

“Are you questioning my arrangements?” Carol said, her words accusing but her tone light.

“I’m usually all for excess,” Abby said, “but I can’t even walk over to you without almost knocking something over.”

She wound through the room to demonstrate, until they were both wedged in between a clock and a cabinet, Abby completely blocking Carol’s exit.

“Are you going to keep me here until I admit you’re right?” Carol asked.

“Or until my glass is empty,” Abby said. “Sadly, I forgot to refill it before I came over. Would you like a top-up?”

“No, I shouldn’t; I really should be heading home soon, I’ve been here late all week and Harge is - ”

“Nope,” Abby interrupted, holding up a finger. “We had a rule: no Harge. Don’t even mention him. This is supposed to be your time apart. And I’m not going to be the most sympathetic listener if he keeps taking you away.”

She must have touched a nerve; she had meant to lighten the mood, keep Carol smiling instead of adopting that harried expression she didn’t realise she wore every time she was reminded of her husband. But her friend had slipped back into a pensive state, clearly not taking Abby’s words as they were intended. Never one for caution, she probed further.

“What is it?”

“We can really do this,” Carol said. “This place, I mean; it could work.”

“Well I’d hope so, I’ve worked harder on this than on anything else I’ve ever done,” Abby said, but Carol shook her head.

“No, I mean that we have a profession, a proper business, and if it takes off…” her voice trailed away.

“We’ll have a successful shop? I’m not following,” Abby said, planting herself on a table.

“We’ve never really had to support ourselves, not independently for a long period of time – you have your family money, I had my parents and then I got married. But this, if this does well, we could be earning real money, maybe enough not to need anyone else’s.”

“Easy there, we’ve made one sale,” Abby said, but nonetheless she was pleased by her friend’s optimism. She had thought of the shop as a project, the specifics unimportant; they were achieving something tangible together and enjoying themselves in the process, it didn’t matter how long they kept it going because that was never the point – at least not for her.

“I don’t need Harge,” Carol said, looking at Abby directly and killing whatever flippant remark she’d been about to make.

She leaned forward and kissed her with a certainty that startled them both. Abby, still holding her glass, was completely stunned; her free hand rose of its own accord to cup Carol’s face, as if to reassure herself that this was truly happening.

Abruptly Carol broke it off, glancing out the window with the expression of a deer in headlights. The sun was still hitting them and it was difficult to see outside.

“Relax, there’s far too much furniture in the way,” Abby said, tugging gently on Carol’s hand to bring her attention back to the two of them. “Your layout has its benefits.”

Carol was smiling again in a heartbeat. “Does that mean I win?” she teased.

“We’ll keep it cluttered,” Abby said, only too happy to concede as Carol kissed her again.

 


End file.
